The Great Galactic Score!

28

28

The journey down the lift shaft, though long and tiresome due to the speed, or lack of it, in which the platform moved downward, would not have felt half as bad were it not for Friss telling the same joke every time another floor passed them by. By the fourth iteration of "Third floor, ladies lingerie and swimwear", Demi had got to the point where spending time among the death-dealing denizens of the surface seemed like a monumentally better use of her time.

Both Briyun and Lap appeared to not notice the continuous, circuitous running commentary, with Lap looking out, expectantly, every time Friss made the joke. Presumably to check out the latest beach fashions, or to catch a sneaky look at lace bra and panty sets. Or for something else entirely. In truth, Demi had no idea what went through Lap's mind at the best of times. The only times she thought she had any idea what the Planeian thought was when they appeared to show great relish in causing severe trauma to people or creatures that had annoyed them, or were in their way, or were simply somewhere in their general vicinity.

As the platform came to a creaking stop at the very bottom of the sub-basements, they found another of those crab people. This one a little smaller than the one above and marginally faster at curling into a protective ball at the first sign of trouble. Lap tried to tip the creature onto its back, which Demi found cruel and quite at odds with how Lap had treated her. But, then again, everything about Lap was at odds with something. It was about finding that sweet spot between horribly violent and 'aww'-inducing adorability. Lap did not make that easy.

"Right. Everyone split up, gather what you can and meet back here in ten minutes. And, no, Lap, you can't take one of the crabs as a pet. They are people! People that look like crabs, but still people. Okay?" Friss scowled as Lap launched into a series of crinkles, verbose rustlings and even one extended tearing paper sound. He tried to talk, but Lap interrupted him with more noises. "Well, of course you can kill them. Killing people is fine, making them pets is not. Demi, you're with me. How's the tech dampening down here?"

"It's ..." She thought about it and realised she no longer had the sensation of the implant feeling as though someone with an extremely high-pitched voice was reciting 'War and Peace', screaming in her ear. She could actually sense technology nearby. "It's not bad. I can sense something down that way. Something powerful, but it's not networked. I can't get in to it to see what it is."

"Great! That's the one! The best tech has the best security." He stood, his legs spread as he used a knife-like hand to point the way Demi had told him she could sense the tech. "Let's go! Move! Move! Move, people!"

Everyone moved but didn't seem to be in any rush. Briyun appeared to have become enthralled by a picture of a cat dangling by its claws from the branch of a tree with the titles "It's a long drop. Don't forget your blaster!". That didn't make any sense to Demi. Why would anyone need a blaster to fall to the ground? No matter, Friss had tugged at the Gal-Navy issue sweatshirt sleeve, urging her to follow him along the corridor.

Along the way, Friss flattened himself against the wall, spun around and spread his arms, as though he clung to a rock face, dropped to his knees, combat rolled, spread-eagled himself and flipped back to his feet. After five feet of that, Demi had had enough and walked past him. As she walked, she reached out to the security for this special piece of tech, the tech that Friss had mentioned and Demi had promptly forgotten the name of, MacGuffin-something-or-other. It was something she could almost definitely bypass and, finally, she could earn whatever it was that Friss was paying her for this job.

They turned a corner to find another of those crab people had already opened the door, had scuttled sideways into the room and had a claw hovering above a button that gave Demi a distinct 'self-destruct' vibe.